


Ron Weasley and the Power of Populism

by Muusad



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crack, Gen, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Not Epilogue Compliant, Ron Weasley-centric, accidental politician, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-18 04:29:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29483727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Muusad/pseuds/Muusad
Summary: In which Ron Weasley faces the consequences of poor decision making fueled by copious amounts of alcohol.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 22





	1. Chapter 1

When Ron awoke to a splitting headache, a crick in his back due to sleeping half-on half-off of a futon, and a missing sock and shoe (on opposite feet), he was quite sure indeed that his day could not possibly get any worse. This delusion was rudely shattered when he opened his eyes to find the one and only Savior of the United Kingdom grinning down at him, a steaming mug of tea in one hand a copy of the Prophet in the other.

Ron waited a moment - partly out of politeness; partly to force down the rising feeling of nausea - but when it seemed Harry was content to simply beam down at him like his own personal sun, he decided it would be best for everyone’s interests if he took the initiative.

“Good morning, Harry, mate.”

Harry seemed to be caught in a loop of looking at the front page of his newspaper, looking at him, and suppressing laughter. When he spoke, his voice was somewhat strained with the effort, “Why, good morning, Ron.” He started to say something else and then stopped himself in favor of setting the mug and paper down on a convenient side table. “We’ll deal with the consequences of last night in time; first, you need to get cleaned up!”

Ron raised a warding hand to fend off Harry’s exuberant proclamation, “Not so loud, eh? Had me a bit of a night…” he trailed off and then froze, as the meaning of Harry’s words sunk in. By now he had managed to scoot over so his back is propped against the wall, and so he was able to lean forward and put his head in his hands. When he spoke, his muffled tone was primarily one of weary resignation, “What did we do?”

There was silence but for more rustling of paper, and Ron lifted his head to see Harry holding out the newspaper with a gleeful look on his face.

“Oh no.”

Harry’s mad grin somehow grew even wider as he said, “Oh yes.”

Ron reached out to grasp the paper with trembling fingers, swallowed hard, and then gently unfolded it to read.

* * *

_War Hero Ronald Weasley Announces Ministerial Bid_

_Ronald Weasley shocked all those present at the Ministry’s Office for Formal Declarations late last evening when he arrived quite suddenly, without the customary prior notice. He cut a dashing figure, striding in purposefully with Harry Potter and Neville Longbottom flanking him._

_……_

The article continued in this way for some time, and Ron impatiently skipped over the flowery praise being heaped upon Harry, as was customary whenever he appeared in the publication these days.

_……_

_And so, after swearing the traditional oath upon his magic, and with his companions serving as witnesses both of the swearing of the oath as well as Candidate Weasley’s character references, the race for the Minister of Magic position has taken quite the turn. A representative from Minister Shacklebolt’s office declined to comment on the matter, but with this first lot being cast from such an unlikely source, the upcoming election promises to be far from the boring contest that had previously been predicted._

* * *

The article continued on an interior page, but as the implications fully settled upon him, Ron felt himself losing his battle with nausea; Harry was kind enough to summon a nearby rubbish bin directly into Ron’s arms, and he hugged it gratefully as he hung his head inside to reintroduce the contents of his stomach to the light of day. Once he had collected himself and rinsed his mouth out with a swig from a glass of water, also provided by Harry, the resultant mess and smell were vanished with a casual wave of Harry’s wand.

With that taken care of, Ron said, with a heavy sigh, “Bollocks.”


	2. Chapter 2

By unspoken agreement, Harry kept his silence as Ron remained propped against the wall and attempted to come to terms with his self-inflicted fate, occasionally making use of the rubbish bin as the detox potion coursing through his veins did its unpleasant work. He used this time primarily to begin preparing a proper English breakfast, as by the time that was complete Ron should be more or less functional. It was as he was about to start caramelizing the mushrooms that he heard Ron’s plaintive voice call out to him from the other room.

“Why did you let me do this to myself, mate?”

With a shrug, he called back, “It seemed like a good idea at the time. You made some very convincing arguments about how you’d run things, given the chance.”

There was a bit of a pause, and Harry used the opportunity to arrange the mushrooms in the pan in a smiley face. As they began to sizzle in a promising way, Ron’s highly skeptical voice floated in, “Really?”

“Oh, yes. Hermione agreed, even.”

There was a high pitched squeak of pure shock, several loud thumps, a crashing noise, and then Ron was leaning unsteadily against the door frame. Harry eyed him as he flipped the mushrooms over with a practiced flick of the wrist, but gave Ron time to collect himself once more. He could recall all too clearly just how unpleasant the process of magical detoxification was.

“Think I misheard you there, Harry. Could you please repeat that?” Ron’s voice grew higher in pitch as he went on, and Harry smiled fondly to himself as he moved the mushrooms around on the pan until they once more forced the smiley face. Ron snorted when he noticed, but didn’t offer any comment; he knew better than to mock a source of food, especially with the state he was in.

“Hermione thought it was a good idea.”

Ron looked as though Harry had just informed him that the color red did not actually exist. “Are you sure?”

Harry hummed in assent.

From the look on Ron’s face it seemed as though his entire world was crashing down around him. Then, with the sort of timing that was only possible in the magical world, Hermione, having made her way downstairs as Ron received this revelation, hugged him gently from behind and traded smiles with Harry. Ron started slightly at the touch but, upon realizing who it was, relaxed into the contact. 

No more words were spoken as Hermione slowly guided Ron to a seat at the table and then sat across from him. She seemed to be having some difficulty meeting his gaze, but Ron was briefly distracted from this by the arrival of delightful smelling food as Harry slid the plate in front of him before plonking himself down next to Hermione. 

Deciding that he would just take things one step at a time for now, and not wanting to waste perfectly delicious food, Ron postponed his questioning for now as he started in on the meal. He pointedly ignored the looks that Harry and Hermione exchanged as he dug in.

In what felt like absolutely no time at all his breakfast was behind him and Ron found himself feeling rather fortified considering the circumstances. With that done he slouched down in his chair, crossed his arms, and alternated between staring at the two seated across from him.

Hermione broke the silence with a mildly awkward, “So…”

“Why aren’t you running?” This question was directed at both of them, “Compared to the two of you I’m, just, well. You know. Why me?”

“There has only been one Muggleborn Minister for Magic, ever, and he was forced out by a pureblood plot that, shockingly,” her tone dripped bitterness, “the Wizengamot did not feel the need to investigate.”

Ron indicated Harry with a nod of his head and received a helpless shrug in response.

Hermione spoke again, “Due to the ‘ignominy’ of the entire event, the Wizengamot did end up placing a restriction on those not from the ‘appropriate background’ who would choose to run for high office. A period of service of at least ten years in a high-ranking Ministry position or an endorsement by two-thirds of the Wizengamot. While Harry might be able to get the latter it’s not terribly likely, especially as it’s now widely known he was raised by Muggles, and I can think of any number of ways I’d rather spend the next ten years of my life. I’ll admit I had been considering it, but then you got to talking last night,” she sent a bashful grin his way, “you really were making some good points, Ron, and you’re also a pureblood. We could actually do this thing.” Her eyes were shining, now, “Can you imagine it, Ron? From an equality standpoint, you could be the greatest Minister in history! Even if you only managed some of what you spoke about it would be groundbreaking!”

As Ron raised his hands in a warding gesture, trying to come up with a polite way to say that he didn’t actually remember any of his apparently amazing policy proposals, Harry smiled and waved cheerily at him, “While you were snoozing away - did you know it’s nearly 3 in the afternoon, mate - I’ve been receiving letters from all manner of families.”

Despite everything, Ron allowed himself to be diverted and leaned forward in interest, “Letters?”

Ron was absolutely not disturbed in the slightest when Hermione’s smile took on a bit of an edge as Harry continued, “Oh, yes. They’re all bloody terrified of me; isn’t it great? The darker families, that is. Seems my offing Voldemort all those years ago left a bit of an impression of them. They’re falling all over themselves to proclaim their neutral interest in the upcoming election. Malfoy even sent over a preemptive congratulations.”

“Malfoy? Really?” 

In unison, Harry and Hermione said, “Really,” and the effect was somewhat chilling. 

The world had gone insane, Ron reasoned, as that could be the only explanation for what was happening. As he was contemplating the depths of his insanity, Hermione chose that moment to send him spiraling further down as she said, in a casual tone, “By the way, that press conference you asked for last night starts in thirty minutes. You might want to get cleaned up.”

He turned a pleading gaze to Harry, who shrugged at him in a what-can-you-do sort of way before gesturing helpfully to the stairs.

With a supreme force of will and an air of martyrdom, Ron made his way upstairs to take a shower and get dressed in an attempt to face this latest in a serious of horrors.

So focused was he on his own misery that he completely missed the conspiratorial grin and fist bump that Harry and Hermione shared back in the kitchen.


End file.
